


softly, in this moment

by guiltylights



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, albeit a week late, happy birthday my angry tosser son, it's technically a birthday fic for my favourite son Kageyama Tobio, probably a million fics like this exist out there but I Am Weak, so Sappy it might hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltylights/pseuds/guiltylights
Summary: The sunlight is coming in through slatted panes from the windows, and Hinata loves Kageyama for all that he is. And, likewise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Time started: 29 December 2016, 1am or so;– ] 
> 
> Have Kagehina fluff because it’s 1am and I love these two idiots. You’d think that since they’re my all-time OTP for haikyuu, I would’ve written a fic for them sooner, but no, oh no. Also this fic is like, clichéd as fuck. I mean Really Clichéd. I’m indeed capitalising those letters for a reason. 
> 
> Please rate and review!

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It’s morning.

Hinata has his eyes open even before the alarm clock on the bedside table rings, an occurrence that definitely happens only rarely on special days, under special circumstances. Hinata is bad at getting up early, usually, groaning and snoozing his alarm for several minutes whenever it rings, rarely being able to drag himself out of bed unless there happens to be volleyball practice in the morning or _something_ of special circumstances. He’s gotten better at it now, over the years, now that he’s in university, but some habits are hard to kick no matter how old he gets, worn in like a familiar routine, embedded into him like muscle memory. But today is different. Today falls under “special circumstances”. And so, he’s awake.

Hinata moves over, to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table next to him. It is currently 7:40am.

 Hinata _feels_ the shifting next to him before he actually hears it – the rustling of the sheets coming through to his senses like an afterthought, the sound quiet and soft and crisp in the early morning light. The sunlight is coming through in slatted panes from their bedroom window. Hinata stares at the sunlight without thought, his mind a pleasant buzzing static noise, and Hinata _feels_ the shifting happening next to him the same way he feels other people moving on the volleyball court near him – the effect happening on the court like muscle memory, Hinata sensing his teammates for cues without looking, for directions without asking. If it can happen so naturally on court without thought, it makes sense that it would translate directly into ordinary life too, Hinata feeling the person next to him stirring, awakening.  

Kageyama turns over on his side, and Hinata turns over, as well.

Kageyama’s hair is mussed with sleep, and his eyes are barely open. Only one slit of blue peeking out from beneath a ruffled fringe tells Hinata that Kageyama is awake; he’s awake, but barely. Hinata beams at him.

“Good morning,” he says, loud but still hushed in the early morning atmosphere. Hinata is lying on his forearms as he greets Kageyama, and smiling until he’s showing his teeth.

Kageyama shifts, again, not responding to Hinata’s greeting. He doesn't make a sound – he looks grumpier than usual (presumably because he’s sleepy), but Hinata’s learned over the years that Kageyama looking grumpy doesn’t necessarily mean that he is. His naturally brooding, perpetually-uncomfortable looking expression is a part of him and is as natural as his dark hair, or his blue eyes – or his tosses, when they fly in the air and appear in front of a waiting spiker with exact precision. And after nearly five years Hinata can look at those features and pick out emotions on Kageyama’s face that others often can’t; how he’s actually content when his face looks neutral, how he’s really neutral when he looks unhappy, how he’s actually unhappy.  

Kageyama throws an arm around Hinata’s waist, and drags him closer. He presses his face to the top of Hinata’s head, and breathes in slowly again. In, and out. In, and out.

Hinata tries to smother his laughter behind his hand. But the sound escapes anyway, bouncing around their shared bedroom, bubbling in the air like fizzy champagne. “Oi, Kageyama, I never knew that you were this affectionate,” he teases. He’s lying of course – two years have allowed Hinata to understand Kageyama in more ways than he could’ve imagined, and both he and Kageyama knows this, but still, he teases. Because it’s their way. Because it’s familiar.

“Shut up,” Kageyama mumbles, in a slightly more awake tone, “I’m tired, dumbass, let me sleep.”

“But today is a really special day!” Hinata complains in a stage whisper, his voice exaggerated even in this hushed tone, muffled where he is wriggling a little in Kageyama’s grasp. Kageyama huffs in annoyance.

“What’s so special about this day?” He grumbles, wrestling out his other hand from where it had been trapped between his body and the bed, slipping it around Hinata and tightening his grip just so that Hinata would stop moving. “If it’s something stupid like National Volleyball Day or something, I’m going to smack you and go back to sleep – I’m not going to wake up for something like that, idiot.”

Hinata squawks, indignantly, now, and the atmosphere in the room twists and blends into something else; something less quiet and soft and crisp, into something warmer, warm like stretching one’s back after a long nap, feeling the muscles flex and ease. Into something bubbling like fizzy champagne, like happiness – like overflowing contentment, maybe. The sunlight is still coming through in slatted panes from their bedroom window, and Hinata and Kageyama’s legs are tangled together with their white sheets. Hinata is kicking them around right now.

“Hey, rude,” he starts, at a normal volume now, “are you saying that volleyball is not important? That’s _so_ unlike you, Kageyama–”

Kageyama growls a little at the back of his throat, puts a hand on Hinata’s head, and pushes down. “Shut up.”

Hinata yelps, really thrashing now, and yup, damnit, Kageyama’s _definitely_ awake now. He sighs in defeat, and rolls away from Hinata to settle on the other side, intent on, if not trying to fall back asleep for a while longer, at least getting away from the noise.

But it’s not even a minute later when Kageyama feels Hinata scrambling to him again, hugging him from behind and pressing his face into his back. “Wait no, come back, I miss you hugging me, do it again,” Hinata whines.

Kageyama sighs inwardly. _God, this idiot_. But he turns around, and pulls Hinata back into his grip again, and Hinata hums happily at his chest, clutching at his back. Kageyama huffs softly, rests his head on Hinata’s fluffy orange head, and closes his eyes.

Everything is quiet again, for a while, the air around them in the bedroom settling into its space again, comfortable and soft and measured like breathing. Through a small crack in his eyelids, Kageyama watches particles of dust dance delicately in the streams of sunlight falling onto their bed and their floorboards. He watches them without taking note of them in particular; his senses taking in all inputs that he is currently experiencing, but with no further contemplation or thought given to the sensory inputs. His face against Hinata’s hair, the feeling of the cotton sheets worn against his skin, the warm temperature of the room simply being what it is. The light coming through in slatted panes from the windows, the dust particles dancing in the streams.

Kageyama is just about to nod off back to sleep when Hinata pipes up against him. “Are you gonna ask me why today is a special day?” He asks.

Kageyama pries one eyelid open to stare down at Hinata. Hinata cranes to look up back at him in return, eyes wide with anticipation.

Kageyama considers. “Can I say no?” He asks.

“Nope.”

Kageyama groans. “Then why did you ask me in the first place?” He glares down at Hinata in irritation, eyebrows pinching together. Hinata makes a little _eep_ sound at the look, and scrabbles a little bit in Kageyama’s arms, but Kageyama just tightens his grip in response. Hinata stops squirming.

“Illusion of choice!” Hinata declares.

Kageyama frowns. “How do you even know what that means? _I_ barely know what that means.”

“Tsukishima taught it to me.” Hinata grins smugly.

Hinata wriggles up the bed, moving so that now he and Kageyama are eye-level, instead of eye-to-chest. Hinata’s legs are significantly shorter, so he has to move up quite a bit, and Hinata is pretty sure that on his way up he accidentally kneed Kageyama in the stomach – the glare Kageyama shoots him pretty much confirms it – but finally, Hinata is up to Kageyama’s eye level, and Hinata cups his hands around Kageyama’s face.

“Happy birthday.” Hinata tells him, grinning at Kageyama’s startled face, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. His hair is all over his face, mussed from moving around in his sleep, and Kageyama watches how it frames Hinata’s face like a halo, like a flare of orange against the morning light. His senses take in all sensory input without further contemplation of thought given to them; and Kageyama takes in the feeling of Hinata’s warm hands against his cheeks, the features of Hinata’s face, familiar now, the mussed up mess of his orange hair. Hinata, being what he is.

Kageyama’s senses take in all sensory input without further contemplation of thought given to them, but Hinata’s smile is something old yet something new all over again, right here, today, and Kageyama frowns lightly at the feeling he has, trying to express it. Fragile, with bird-bone-light wings. Or so he supposes. He has never really been eloquent.

Instead, Kageyama flicks Hinata’s forehead. “Dumbass.”

Hinata yelps, covering his forehead with his hands to prevent Kageyama from flicking it again, his cupped hands shading his eyes from looking up at Kageyama above him.

But when Hinata finally pulls his hands away and glimpses upwards, what he sees is a frown marring Kageyama’s features, pulling his eyebrows down and making him seem much scarier than usual. Kageyama looks angry, but after nearly five years Hinata can look at Kageyama’s features and pick out emotions on Kageyama’s face that others often can’t, the habit worn in like a familiar routine, embedded into him like muscle memory.

Hinata recognises the look of insecurity on Kageyama’s face instantly. His smile softens to himself. Silly man, still incapable of seeing how worthy he is of love, of attention, and of appreciation. He’s awkward and strange and doesn’t really understand himself and is sometimes insecure over the smallest of things (like this moment, right now) and Hinata loves him all the same.

Hinata leans forward, and kisses Kageyama’s forehead.

Hinata feels Kageyama leaning into the touch, hesitantly; childishly, like a boy, who wants something more than anything, but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to have it. If he deserves to have it.

When Hinata pulls away, he sees that Kageyama’s eyes are closed. He squeezes Kageyama’s face with both hands still cupped around his face, and Kageyama’s blue eyes open to stare at him.

“Happy birthday,” Hinata says, and means every word. “I love you.”

Kageyama’s eyes widen just slightly, and he goes tense in Hinata’s grasp, before he exhales and relaxes slightly. Hinata feels this the same way he feels his teammates on the volleyball court – the same way he feels Kageyama on the volleyball court, next to him as he runs up to do a spike, sensing Kageyama for cues without looking, for directions without asking. If it can happen on court so naturally, without a second thought, it would make sense that it would translate into ordinary life, too – Hinata _feeling_ the shifting of Kageyama before he hears it, sensing Kageyama’s moving better than anyone else.

“Mm.” Kageyama hums. It sounds gruff, but Hinata knows better. Hinata just laughs, and slithers his arms along Kageyama’s shoulders to throw them around his neck. Hinata pulls him close, and hugs him tight.

The silence around them stretches warm and content, like something bubbling like fizzy champagne, like something settling in. The atmosphere is early morning air and silent noises and sunlight coming in through slatted planes of windows, and Kageyama slides his eyes shut, listening to the sound of Hinata’s heart thrumming steadily through his chest.

“Really though,” Hinata says, after a moment, “we should get up.”

“Why can’t you let me sleep in on my birthday?” Kageyama grumbles, but he swings himself upright, touching his feet on the cold hardwood floor. He pads out of the bedroom, with Hinata chattering next to him.

It’s morning, and the day is just starting.

 

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**Author's Note:**

> This is all a Gigantic Ruse for me to wish my son a happy birthday and to give him the love he deserves that’s right oh no you’ve caught me. 
> 
> Also, this has not plot. What is plot guys. What. 
> 
> [Time ended: 30 December 2016, 12:22am;– ]


End file.
